We're Our Own Dragons
by merrywanderer
Summary: Dan Humphrey has led a hard life. He's a single father in his early forties struggling just to get by. He can't seem to escape his own unhappiness, try as he might. Enter Blair Waldorf. Future fic, Rufus/Lily parallel. Season 6 doesn't matter-maybe it happened, maybe it didn't, but something similar to this story inevitably will.
1. Chapter 1

**We're our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves.**

**-Tom Robbins, _Still Life with Woodpecker_**

There wasn't a soul in Brooklyn who appreciated coffee quite like Dan Humphrey. He adored the smell of espresso being ground into small powdery bits. There was nothing else like it, rich and invigorating with hints of familiarity. It was robust and flavorful, alluring and cozy. Walking into The Noir Bar was like wrapping himself in a blanket of fresh perked rejuvenation. It felt like home.

Perhaps this was one of the reasons he couldn't bear to see the place close down. It was a Brooklyn staple and had been for years, but poor management and apathetic owners had nearly run the joint into the ground. After having been assured by several sources that it was a good investment, he secured a loan and purchased the struggling coffee shop from the Moretti family, who were looking to unload the business after its founder and patriarch, Benito, passed away. It was dingy, small, and needed a lot of work but Dan had a sneaking suspicion that it would be worth it. His suspicion proved to be accurate.

Dan's profession had prevented him time and again from participating in traditional Dad duties and it took its toll on his relationship with his children. Holden, his 16-year-old son, was an avid baseball player whose proficiency on the field had already garnered him notice from several colleges and universities. Dan could recall more instances than he cared to admit in which he had missed games and tournaments in favor of finishing his latest article or column. His daughter Josephine, already a capable writer in her own right, had spent countless hours in her Dad's office serving as a writer's assistant, camped out on the floor ready to refill the printer paper or warm up his coffee. She had been willing to do anything to make him more comfortable, partly because she enjoyed contributing to her Dad's work but also because she knew that her little favors would speed him along in the hope that he might have time to watch a movie with her at the end of the day. Josephine treasured the time she and her Dad spent together in his office. In years past, she secretly thought that she might soak up some of his brilliance by osmosis so she spent day after day sprawled out on his antique rug journaling and writing "articles" for The Perfectionist's Pen, her monthly newsletter dedicated to all things Humphrey. It had twenty-three subscribers, nine of whom were family members, the rest of whom were teachers, friends and their parents, and neighbors.

Dan had discovered the hard way that the life of a writer more often than not was a turbulent one. One day he was New York's hottest young writer and the next day he was whoring himself out to any publication that would take him. He had been regularly published in his twenties, periodically in his thirties, and rarely now that he had crossed over into the realm of the middle aged. It's difficult to write good pieces when one has no inspiration and it's difficult to find inspiration when one has no muse. Dan had had multiple muses over the course of his life, most of whom he had been entangled with in some sort of romantic affair. Some of his best work had been influenced by the women in his life, though most of his publications paled in comparison to Inside, his first novel, and its subsequent sequels. Critics praised the harsh, biting truth of his words, the beautifully arced narrative, and practically orgasmed over his descriptors used in painting the world of Manhattan's upper elite. They had sold relatively well, particularly in New York City, but as with any rise to fame, there is the inevitable fall. "In one day and out the next," his agent had told him the day he was cut loose from his publisher.

That had been a particularly hard year for Dan and the kids. It was the year he lost his job. it was the year his wife left him and his children. And it was the year he received a devastating letter from a former acquaintance, the same letter that had ripped his heart out, and the same letter that destroyed his already threadbare relationship with his son. After six months of self loathing and depression, Rufus finally intervened and helped Dan get back on his feet. Now although Rufus was a sensitive man, Dan referred to this portion of his life as his "Humble Period" as Rufus was a firm believer in tough love. He had no kind words for Dan, only consistent goading and motivation. Dan was concerned that he might actually grow to hate his father but after several weeks of Rufus therapy, Dan came to realize that not only had his dad helped him get his life back on track, but he essentially had rescued Dan from what would have his ultimate undoing. Selfishness was hardly ever a quality attributed to Dan Humphrey but the negligence he displayed toward his children during that period was inexcusable even given the circumstances. He had fallen into despair and consequently had become a self involved hermit.

Rufus was the one who discovered The Noir Bar and pointed Dan in its direction. Dan would never have given it a second glance had Rufus not opened his eyes to the possibility of reinventing himself. It was a difficult concept to digest at first for Dan considered himself an artist and had no desire to be anything else. He felt it was a betrayal to his true self to even consider going into the food service industry. If he were being perfectly honest, the largest blow was to his pride. He was a writer. A writer who had tried, had been moderately successful, but ultimately who had failed. It was at this point that Rufus reminded him of Holden and Josephine who were wholly dependent upon him. Dan was going to have to make some sacrifices in order to take care of his family and to keep them safe.

Life had not treated Dan kindly.

This sentiment played through his mind on a daily basis. He tried as best he could to push it away for the sake of his children, but it was always there, a constant reminder of his losses and the great toll they had taken on him. His business was doing well, he was able to spend more time with his children, and he actually started to accept, even enjoy his job, but he was a changed man. Grief and disappointment had hardened his heart and transformed him into a bitter cynic. He lost his romanticism along with every last drop of his optimism during that year and despite his success with The Noir Bar and his renewed, albeit unstable relationships with his kids, he wasn't able to retrieve those parts of him. His wife took them with her and refused to relinquish them back to him. In his mind, she was to blame for his unhappiness. He knew he had been happy once for he felt the loss of it in his current state. He had been happy once. At least he could cling to that thought.

His kids were happy. They were loved. They would spend their afternoons serving lattes and baking scones with him and it was the stuff of great memories. Gone were the days of keyboards clicking and pencils scratching paper. Their days were now filled with espresso beans, muffin recipes, convection ovens and dust mops. Holden worked only a couple of days a week as he had baseball practice most days, but Josephine was there every day and she loved it. The luminous twelve year old would bounce around the barstools asking the college students if they wanted a free sample (they always did) and bringing napkins to the young mothers who came in weekly for their book club meetings. She brought creamers and coffee stirrers to the business men who frequented after work and she chatted up the younger kids from her school who occasionally stopped by. It was a pleasant existence, one void of turbulence and torment, and it was getting easier by the day. If only Dan could reclaim what was taken from him. Then he would be happy. Then he wouldn't feel the need to hide his nature from his children and his father, for there would be nothing to hide. He could take off his mask. Oh, how he itched to reveal his true countenance to someone, anyone.

This wish was granted to him on a chilly January afternoon.

It was New Year's Day, a day when many businesses were closed, but Dan didn't want to pass up the opportunity to earn a little extra money so he decided to open for half a day. It had been a smart move. The place was packed all morning, hot milk steaming and the cash register dinging. It being a holiday, he had let the kids sleep in and most of his wait staff was out of town so aside from a fifteen year old barista with a nose ring and a propensity for angst, he was on his own. He closed around 2:00 pm, sent the nose ring home and set to work clearing up the mess left by his patrons. He was in the process of cleaning the espresso machine when he heard the ding of the bell that was situated at the top of the entrance door, signaling the arrival of another customer. He must've forgotten to lock the door after the last person left. Silently cursing himself, he shouted over the noise of the steaming wand at the unwanted intruder.

"Sorry, we're closed! You'll have to come back tomorrow!"

"Surely you can spare a moment to make a cup for an old friend."

Dan's heart nearly stopped.

That voice, the one he hadn't heard in almost twenty years, was unmistakable. He shut off the steamer and slowly turned to face its owner.

"Blair."

She looked...good. Better than good. He was momentarily dumbstruck as he took her in, all thoughts and emotions stunted. Her porcelain face, though discreetly lined, was just as beautiful as he remembered and was accented with her trademark ruby lips. She was impeccably dressed, as per usual, though not in a showy manner. She was the epitome of class and sophistication. She wore her mask well.

"Hello Dan." Her tongue seemed to trip over his name as if it were unused to saying it, out of practice.

"What are you doing here?" Dan was still in a state of complete surprise.

"I had a book signing at Barnes and Noble down the street and I wanted a coffee so I thought I'd pop in."

"There's a Starbucks in the bookstore."

Indignation flickered across her features but was quickly replaced with nonchalance.

"Well, I was in the mood for a local brew. Something with a little more flavor and little less flair. I didn't realize you were closing early."

It was at this point that the numbness started to wear off and Dan's emotions began to simmer to the surface. This was Blair Waldorf, after all, not some stranger.

"Well, I've already cleaned the espresso machine, but I could make you a plain old cup of coffee. It's the least I could do for an old friend, right?"

It was simple statement but it contained a critical subtext and it seemed to break the ice. She cocked her hip to one side and relaxed her posture. There was a puzzling expression on her face as well and it took Dan a moment to decipher. As her fingers grazed the empty glass pastry case, she released a lingering breath and smiled. Relief. That's what her expression said. She was relieved.

"I'll take it with cream only, no sugar, and I like the creamer to be added before the coffee. That way-"

"You don't have to stir it, the coffee does it for you." Dan interrupted. "There are some things about a person that never change. Coffee preferences are one of those things."

"I suppose that's true, but I'll have you know I waffle back and forth between that way and just taking it black." She remarked.

He nodded and chuckled. She was still just as charmingly obstinate as he remembered.

She busied herself looking for a place to sit as he prepared the coffee choosing a booth close to the window and quietly waiting. When he approached her with the two steaming mugs she reached for hers and he noticed a significant lack of jewelry adorning her left hand. She caught him eyeing her finger but said nothing.

"So, you had a book signing today? That's a pretty big deal. The latest book is doing well, I take it?" He knew it was doing well. The question was merely for the sake of conversation. He had been keeping up with her publications since the very first one. In a cruel twist of fate, the fashionista had turned novelist, and the novelist had turned columnist turned small business owner.

"It is, quite well. In fact, I'm a little shocked if I'm being honest."

"It really isn't surprising, Blair. You're a wonderful writer." Dan admitted.

"Oh, you've read one of my books?" She seemed genuinely surprised.

"I've read one or two of them." He confessed. "I always knew you had it in you."

"Thank you, Dan. That means a lot coming from you."

They sat awkwardly sipping their coffees, gazing out the frosted window until Dan couldn't stand it any longer.

"So why are you really here, Blair?"

"I just...I wanted to check on you. I heard about Amelia awhile back."

He felt a stab to his chest at the mention of her name. His face must've shown it because Blair jumped in quickly.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking about you and your kids. I'm sure this is very hard on all of you." She hesitantly reached her hand across the table and rested it beside his.

He couldn't look her in the eye. Couldn't talk about it and didn't want to either. The strings holding up his mask were starting to loosen and if he wasn't careful it would fall off. Blair had always been so easy to talk to and she was making it difficult to keep up appearances.

"Yeah, well, we get by. We're fine." His response was clipped and he knew how trite he sounded given the subject.

"Okay. That's good." She furrowed her brow. "Just know that if you need anything I'd be happy to help."

"We don't need anything. I make due just fine on my own." He was sure that his reaction was inappropriate and rude but it couldn't be helped. Talking about Amelia did this to him. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just...I can't talk about it. I get so angry."

"But Dan," she hesitated, not sure if she should continue.

"But what? Why am I so angry?"

"Well, yeah. Why are you angry? I mean...wasn't she...um...it isn't as if she had any choice in the matter, right?" Her tone was soft but it felt like a reprimand nonetheless.

Dan hadn't anticipated discussing Amelia today. He knew he would think about her, dwell on her, obsess over her like every other day, but not talk about her. He usually had to mentally prepare for a conversation like this. He didn't like having to explain away his emotions anymore. People tended to get uncomfortable around him because of the way his grief manifested.

"Yes, she was sick, and no, she didn't ask for it, but none of that negates the fact that she's gone. She left me alone with two kids to take care of and I'm angry about it. I'm furious. There's nothing you can say that will change my mind or make me feel any better so you might as well shut down any of the typical platitudes you were about to unleash on me. That's just how it is. Amelia is dead and I'm pissed as hell at her about it."

Dan waited while Blair soaked in all of his speech. He'd only confessed this to a handful of people and almost all of them had reacted in horror. He could feel their judgement from the moment the words left his mouth, though they never said anything to him. He supposed they pitied him too much. He fully expected to feel the same judgement coming from Blair. But it didn't come.

"Okay." She sipped her coffee, ready to move on to the next topic.

"Okay? That's all you have to say?"

"Yes. Okay. What did you expect? Did you think I would call you a monster?"

"No, but I expected you to think it."

"Maybe I do think it." She had a twinkle in her eye that said otherwise.

"Nah. Now that I come to think of it, you're far too twisted to pass judgement on my darkness."

She smiled. "You're joking, but there's a lot more truth to that than you know."

He raised his eyebrows feigning shock. This woman would forever remain an enigma to him. As much as he wanted to believe she was kidding, he suspected that wasn't the case. Her random visit suddenly seemed not so random and he wondered what had truly brought her out of the woodwork. Amelia had been gone for two years now. Surely if she was as concerned as she suggested, she would have come to see him before today.

"Yes, well, that tends to happen when one surrounds oneself with Basses." He snarked.

Almost imperceptibly her eyes narrowed. He had crossed some invisible line and he knew it. She had come to him offering an olive branch, albeit twenty years too late, and he had taken the twig and snapped it in two. Her transformation was instantaneous. She was all care and concern, then at once, all ice and indifference.

"Look, I understand you're grieving. But I came to you as a gesture of good will and you've been bucking me from the moment I walked in the door."

"Oh please. Don't pretend this is all about me, Blair. You've had ample time since Amelia's death to offer condolences and you've had years to make peace with me. Just spit it out. Tell me why you're really here."

"But, I wrote you, right after she was...didn't you get my letter?" He could tell his words stung her but he was already on a roll, in too deep.

"Yeah I got it. Not the point. Why are you here?"

He could sense her struggling under his challenge. Her nervousness was on display as she fidgeted with indecision. He waited it out and finally she gave in with a defeated sigh.

"Alright. I was hoping to sort of ease into this but your lack of social graces prohibits that. I can see some things never change with you either." She paused, possibly hoping for a sign that he would ease up on her, but he wasn't budging. "Fine. I'll just say it. I want to use your story in my next novel. I spoke with Rufus about it and he-"

"You talked to my dad about it?!"

"Yes, I did. We ran into each other awhile ago and he actually liked the idea. He seemed to think it would be good for you, therapeutic even. He's under the impression that you're still not dealing well with this because you're not talking about it and your children are suffering for it. There. That's it. Should I have sugar coated it?"

Dan was reeling. His father, his own father, had been discussing his emotional state with Blair Waldorf, a woman whom they both were supposed to despise. They had discussed his children. His parenting. It was overwhelming. He could feel the heat rising up his neck and onto his face. With his fists balled tightly underneath the table he managed to pinch out a few clipped words.

"There is no way in hell I am letting you exploit my kids and our tragedy so that you can sell another book. I can't even believe you would ask. Now, thank you for stopping by to check on me and kindly leave. I have work to do."

He stood abruptly, tossing his coffee cup into the trash bin halfway across the room, refusing to look back at her. He started wiping down tables and ignored her completely. He knew how egregious his behavior was but he didn't care. How dare she come to him asking for this. It was unthinkable, even for her. After a few minutes, he heard her get up and click, click to the door. It jingled when she opened it but it didn't stop like it usually did once the door closed. It continued to ding as the icy wind whipped the little bell again and again. She just stood there, staring.

"Happy New Year, Dan."

Whoosh. The jingling stopped and Dan released the breath he had been holding. As soon as Blair was out of sight, he collapsed against the counter and allowed himself to release the tears that had been threatening to spill, the same tears that pestered him nearly every time he heard Amelia's name.

_TBC_

**A/N: I'd like to take a minute to give a huge amount of thanks to those of you who gave me feedback on tumblr regarding this story. It was in a state of limbo and you all sort of revived it for me. You brought it back to life and I'm so appreciative. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and let me know what you think. **_  
_

**-N**


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey hon, I'm home!" Blair called out from the cavernous foyer of her Upper East Side apartment. Groceries and handbag discarded on the console table, she immediately headed for the kitchen where her Teavana perfect tea maker awaited her. She lost her pumps somewhere between the baby grand and the flat screen in a very Hansel and Gretel sort of way, but she didn't experience real relief until she lifted her blouse and undid her corset, dropping it on top of Eliza the giant schnoodle's head.

"How's my good girl?" Blair cooed at her twelve year old giant schnauzer/poodle mix. "Is somebody hungry?" She opened the utility closet where the dogfood was kept and was greeted with an empty bag. "I am going to kill him." Taking the bag with her, she marched herself to the bottom of the curved grand staircase. "I thought I asked you to get some dogfood today. Hello? I said I'm hoo-oome. Are you here?" Nothing, silence. She then decided to try a different tactic and called out, "Okay, well I got takeout for two but since I'm alone I guess I'll just throw out this lamb souvlaki. Too bad, what a waste." Within three seconds, she heard a scuffling upstairs that gradually got louder and closer until finally she heard a voice.

"I'll be right there!"

Blair smiled to herself. Some things would never change, she supposed. And with that her thoughts turned to Dan and their run in at his coffee shop. Dan had all but despised her ever since...well, she had made some mistakes with him, one in particular that was significantly larger than the others. Unforgivable, he'd said. That too, she supposed, would never change. When she had finally made up her mind to visit him, she'd had an optimistic outlook. It had been a very long time, after all, and no one could hold a grudge for that long, could they? As it turned out, he could. Blair grimaced as she replayed the events of their meeting earlier today, wondering if she should have done things differently but not really seeing any way around her chosen course of action. She knew he was going to be caught off guard, but she'd had no idea he would be as angry as he was. Rufus wasn't kidding when he told her that Dan's heart had been hardened. As cliche as it sounded to her at the time, it was the perfect way of describing his current state.

Blair looked up when she felt a pair of eyes on her. The dark brown hair and warm smile were a comfort to her and a welcome sight. She patted the barstool next to her. "Hey there. Come join me."

The young man crossed into the kitchen with a familiar swagger and wrapped his arms around her giving her a good squeeze before settling into the chair. "Hey mom." He opened his styrofoam container and practically moaned in delight at the delicious smells it emitted. "Damn, this smells good."

"Henry!" She swatted his arm out of habit. "Language! Please!"

His chuckle would have been infuriating if he wasn't so charming. "Sorry mom, I just forget sometimes."

"Well, try not to forget around me, okay? I swear, kids these days have no manners whatsoever."

He groaned, "You sound like my English lit. teacher." The he dove into his meal without another word and together they ate in contented silence until it occurred to Henry that his mom was looking a little weary. "Rough day?"

In typical Blair Waldorf fashion, she rolled her eyes before glancing at him. "Is that your way of telling me that I look awful?" He responded with a big, toothy grin, so she continued. "As a matter of fact, yes, it was a pretty shitty day." He feigned shock at her use of profanity while she rambled on about waking up at 4:45 am and the dry cleaners ruining her favorite Dior blouse and the very serious lack of patrons at her book signing today. "And then to top it all off, I had coffee with an old friend who basically called me a devious parasite."

That caught his attention. "Who are you talking about? Why would she say that about you?"

"Not she, but he, and it's because I approached him about using the story of how he lost his wife in my next book. I mean, I knew it would be a touchy subject given the nature of it, but I did not see his reaction coming. At all." She sipped her tea and added, "Which is so strange because he basically used to worship the ground I walked on."

Henry got very still. His lamb suddenly became fascinating as he gingerly placed his fork on his plate and refused to look at her when he spoke. "So he's an ex."

Blair was no stranger to Henry's mood swings so his shift didn't phase her. "Yes, Henry, he's an ex but from a very long time ago. We were both in college at the time. We were your age, just kids. It's nothing to worry about, okay?" Her hand went to his back and he flinched under her touch.

"But you promised you wouldn't start dating yet."

"Baby, I'm not. Believe me, Dan Humphrey is the last person on earth I would consider dating at this point in my life. I mean, he runs a glorified diner in Brooklyn for crying out loud. Trust me, there is nothing going on. It's just business and truthfully it's not even that. He's had a really hard life as of late and his father came to see me awhile ago and asked if I would help him, get him talking. I'm not even planning on using the story. It was just a ruse. I'm trying to do something good here, nothing more." She kept her hand on his back running it up and down his spine just as he liked her to do when he was younger. She felt him softening as her words penetrated the wall he put up whenever the topic came around to her and relationships.

"It's just, I don't know if I'm ready to see you with someone else yet." He ran his hands through his dark locks. "I know how childish and selfish that is but I can't help it. It'll change, I swear to you it will because I do want you to be happy, mom. I want that more than anything. But it's only been a few months and Dad is still...well he's having a hard time with all of this. I'm not trying to put this on you, I know it was his fault. I get it. But I guess what I'm trying to say is, are you sure about the divorce? I mean, people make mistakes mom. Are you absolutely positive that you guys aren't making one now?"

She took his hand and kissed his knuckles. "I know how hard this is on you. I've been through it, remember? I want you to know that your father and I loved each other very much once. That's how we got you and you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, no don't brush me off! I don't care how old you get, there will always be a part of me that thinks of you as my little boy. I can't help it, it's innate. Now, having said that, you need to know that your father and I have not been happy with each other for quite some time. We have issues and no matter how hard we've tried in the past, we simply cannot work through them. He may not see it now, but he's going to see that someday and maybe because we're parting amicably now, he can be grateful when that day comes."

"But I don't think he will ever get over it. He just about told me as much the other day."

An alarm went off inside Blair's head and she felt her blood pressure start to rise. It was just like Chuck to use their son as a ploy to attempt a reconciliation with her. Trying as best she could to keep a cool head, she cleared their food and drinks, all the while keeping her face away from Henry who had always been good at reading her. When she felt calm enough to speak, she kept her back to him just in case.

"The divorce will be finalized on Thursday, Henry. There's no going back."

After a brief pause, she heard his chair slide out and then smash back against the bar followed by angry footsteps all the way up the stairs until the slam of his bedroom door rattled her the prints on the wall.

...

"Dad?"

His banging on the door frame echoed down the hall and out onto the street. After closing up, Dan had spent the next several hours splitting his time between storming through his to do list and contemplating placing his father in a mental hospital. His encounter with Blair had him fuming and he was looking to lash out.

"Dad are you home? I need to talk to you!"

He stopped momentarily to listen for signs of life inside his father's Brooklyn loft. When he heard the shuffling papers and the clink of a coffee mug, he decided to keep banging just for effect. And also because it felt good to hit something really hard. When Rufus finally appeared at the door, Dan had to stop for a minute and remind himself that he was still angry. Rufus looked old and a bit tired. He often forgot that as he himself aged, so did his parents who were in their sixties now. It was hard for Dan to imagine that his dad, the former band member and musician was an elderly grandparent with all the trappings, Dan's favorite being the space heater he carried with him everywhere he went. Rufus lowered his glasses to get a good look at his son.

"Dan? What's the matter? Why didn't you use the spare key?"

The key, that's right. He must have forgotten about it in the frenzy of making a grand entrance.

"I need to talk to you." And with that, he brushed right past Rufus into the loft and began to pace. He hadn't thought about how he would start, he just knew that he was going to let him have it.

"You talked to Blair Waldorf."

Rufus quietly closed the door and turned around. Without looking at Dan, he headed into the kitchen and put a tea kettle on to boil.

"Did you hear me? I said I know about your conversation with Blair. She came to see me today. What were you thinking?"

Rufus released a sigh. "I was thinking that you are clearly unhappy and that it was a way to get you to examine your life. Not your past, but your life as it is. I was thinking that it would help you move on-"

"MOVE ON! Do you realize how cruel it is to say that to me? How can you be so callous?"

"Two words. Josephine. Holden. That's how I can say that to you. That's how I could seek out Blair Waldorf and ask her to help me get you to wake up and realize what's right in front of you."

"You think I don't love my kids? You think I don't realize how this has affected them?" His throat caught and burned and he took a moment to gather himself, to calm down. The last thing he needed was another embarrassing outburst today. Breathing deeply several times before continuing, he closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. "I know that I'm not the perfect father and I know that the kids and I are not in the best place right now, but we're going to get there eventually. We will."

Rufus walked over to his son and placed his hands on his shoulders and in the way that only Rufus Humphrey could do, he calmed Dan down with a single touch. "I know you will. I know you will, but sometimes the things that happen to us are too much for one person to bear. That's why I'm here. It's my only job, to love you and Jenny and your children. That's it. You have to trust me here Dan, I know a little bit about overcoming heartache. You've come a long way but you're in a bit of a rut now and you're not going to be able to get through this on your own. Let me help you. Talk to Blair, let her write it all down. Then maybe you can see it from a different perspective. Maybe you'll be able to see it through Jo's eyes, or Holden's...or mine."

Rufus released Dan to grab the handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his eyes. Dan refused to look anywhere but at the floor. He was so ashamed, so disgusted with himself yet not quite ready to concede to his father. He knew Rufus meant well and that he wanted to help him, but Dan just wasn't sure that his methods were effective anymore.

"Why did you go to Blair of all people? Do you realize how long it's been since I've talked to her? She's not even a part of my life, not to mention the fact that I'm pretty sure you weren't very fond of her when she and I were involved."

Rufus pressed his lips together and examined Dan before speaking. "I know Dan. I know about the letters."

Dan's sharp intake of breath was audible. He stood frozen, panicked. His only option at this point was to retreat.

"Look, I appreciate your concern Dad, I really do, but I've got everything under control. You don't need to worry about me or the kids. We're fine. We're going to be fine."

...

It was nearly seven o'clock and Dan still hadn't returned home yet. Holden was busy washing up dishes from the dinner he had prepared for he and Josephine, who was happily typing away at work on her next article.

"Hey Holden, how do you spell colloquialism?"

"I dunno. Google it."

"If I google it, it's kind of like cheating."

"How is asking me any different?"

"Well, I thought that once you started the word I would be able to finish it, you know? So how do you spell it?"

"Fine. I think it's c-o-l-lo-"

"-q-u...i...a-l-i-s-m?" She began typing furiously to check. "Yes! I got it. Now what about sensual?"

Holden stopped drying the plate in his hand and cocked an eyebrow in her direction. "Jo. Why would you be using that word in your article?"

"I'm writing a short story about a dog."

"Okay, but that still doesn't answer my question."

"Well, the dog is really sweet but he has a licking problem and at one point he licks all of the Sensual Amber lotion off of his owner's hands." Jo went back to typing as Holden smiled at his baby sister. She was brilliant and unashamed and he loved that about her. Her monthly newsletter was the source of much pride amongst the Humphrey clan. Holden had never seen a child of her age with such drive and ambition nor with the smarts to pull off what she had done in her very few years. She wanted to be a writer, just like her dad and she was well on her way to becoming one. She stopped for nothing and no one except for her Dan himself so when she heard the lock turn, her story was forgotten and she raced to open it for him.

"Daddy!" She flung her arms around his neck as he picked her up, just as he used to do when she was only a toddler.

"Hey firecracker, how was your day?"

"It was great! I finished all of my required reading for winter break and I started a new short story. It's about a dog who has ticks, but not the bug kind. You know, ticks like I have, quirks." Jo had recently been diagnosed with a mild form of turrets, a syndrome that in her case manifested itself in small repetitive movements, or ticks. It was disheartening for Dan to learn that she would have this to compound her already troubled young life, but so far she had proven to handle it with finesse. Jo was never one to let her circumstances overcome her successes and Dan was infinitely proud of her.

"Well that sounds like a great story concept. I can't wait to read it. Hey Holden, did you guys eat?"

Holden muttered a clipped, unintelligible response while wiping down the counter.

"What was that? I couldn't understand you." Dan asked, irritated. He was always having to get onto Holden about his mumbling.

"I said yes, what do you think I'm cleaning up for?" Holden snapped.

Dan sighed and turned his attentions to Jospehine, who was shoving her laptop in his face, begging him to read her story. "I can't read it right now baby. I've got to do some writing tonight."

Her face fell. "Pleeeeease Daddy? I really need to know if it's any good. I don't know if I'm taking it in the right direction."

"Not now Jo."

Still she persisted. "But Daddy my issue is due to launch the day after tomorrow! If I don't finish the story it'll be late going out! Come on, Dad, please!"

Halfway to his office already, Dan whipped around. "Josephine Humphrey I said not now and I meant it!" Dan walked briskly into his office and slammed the door shut. Jo stared after her father, not used to hearing him raise his voice at her and stunned at his unexpected mood swing. He had done it plenty since her mom passed away, but it was usually directed at Holden who was better able to handle it. Her eyes filled with tears as her big brother's hand slipped into her own.

"He didn't mean it Jo. He's probably just having a tough week. I'll read your story and I won't make you google a single word. Deal? But let's go into your room, okay?"

After an hour or so, Holden emerged from her room with a clear head and a sharp tongue. While he spelled words for Jo, he'd had plenty of time to gather his thoughts and prepare the onslaught of criticism that his dad had coming to him. This was nothing new to him but it would feel good nonetheless. It was no secret that he and his dad were having issues getting along, particularly since his mother's death. They would count it as a good day if neither one of them bit the other's head off. As he stormed into Dan's office, he considered what his opening statement would be. Perhaps, "What kind of a father can't take five minutes to read his kid's story" or maybe, "If you'd been here today you'd know that I got an interest letter from Stanford today, not that you care" or he might just go with the classic, "You're such a jackass".

His mouth was open and ready to fire when he stopped short for he wasn't prepared for the sight of his father with his head in his hands, completely and utterly despondent. He lowered his raised pointer finger and cleared his throat after a few seconds, for Dan hadn't even heard him open the door. Eyes were wide and staring, Holden was incapable of responding to the situation. His emotions were at war and it was impossible to tell which side would get the upper hand, so he just said the first thing that came to mind.

"Well did you at least make any money today?"

Dan jumped at the sound.

"Yeah, Dad, I live here too. There's no need to be alarmed that I would be in your office."

"I know. I'm just a little preoccupied. I had a rough day, but it's nothing you need to worry about. Why don't you come sit down and tell me how badly I screwed up with Jo."

Holden hesitated, preferring to keep his position by the door. "She's alright, I talked her down but I think you do need to go apologize or something. You know how sensitive she is."

"Yeah, I know."

Finally Holden moved into the room and sat on the other side of the desk, opposite his dad. "So what happened today?"

Dan breathed deeply and gave Holden the abbreviated version of the story. An old acquaintance ambushed him at the shop wanting to write a novel based on the Humphrey family's tragedy, which wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't have been prompted by Rufus to do it in the first place.

"He seems to think it'll be, I don't know...therapeutic for me, or something. It's nonsense."

Holden sat back and listened to Dan spin the tale with his usual cynical slant, all the while absorbing every bit of information he could on this mystery acquaintance. It wasn't until Dan slipped up and used the phrase "when we were together" that he was able to put the pieces together. It wasn't entirely confirmed in his mind so he baited him.

"So, let me get this straight. Grandpa was worried about you so he contacted this writer, your former college girlfriend to write a book about mom? That doesn't sound so bad. I mean it's not as if you've seen this woman or had any contact with her since college, right? She probably doesn't even know you anymore. It sounds like she could be totally unbiased and write an incredible tribute to mom. What's so bad about that."

Dan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, we may have spoken once or twice since then."

Holden's eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I knew it. She's the one, isn't she? The one who wrote you that letter right after mom was diagnosed."

Having not been prepared for this line of questioning, Dan was completely caught off guard and in turn was forced into honesty. Holden would see straight through anything else. "Yeah, that's her."

They sat in silence for at least five minutes while Holden processed everything his father had just told him and all of it's implications. He'd gotten used to hating this woman ever since he'd found her letter to Dan, but this turn of events made things much more complicated. She was a real person now with a career, and a residence, and a name. Oh god, she had a name.

"Who is she?"

"Blair. Her name is Blair, but it doesn't matter because I'm not doing it. And she doesn't mean anything to me now. She did once, but I was fool and it was a very long time ago. She means nothing to me."

Several hours later, Holden sat on his bed contemplating his next move for quite some. He'd just finished up a lengthy conversation with his grandpa and his brain was spinning from all of the conflicting emotions. After he left his dad in the office, he'd gone straight to his bedroom and called his grandpa to get the real story. What surprised Holden the most was not that Grandpa endorsed and even initiated this little writing project, but that he was under the impression that this Blair woman could be the one person help his dad. The one thing they both agreed on was that Dan was in desperate need of help. He wasn't sleeping at night, he hardly ate anything, he exploded at the drop of a hat, and every so often Holden would catch him staring off into nothing, completely disconnected from his family and the world around him. If she could get him to talk about it, then maybe it was worth whatever heartache came from knowing his dad was spending time with the woman who had...well he didn't really know what she was to him but whatever happened between them, it didn't sound good. He reached over and opened his nightstand, then dug around a little until he found the pale piece of paper he was searching for. With dread, for he knew from experience that reading this would bring with it pain, he took a deep breath and opened the letter.

_Dear Dan,_

_Words can't even begin describe how sorry I am to hear about Amelia's cancer. I know that you and the kids must be going through hell. I just want you to know that I'm thinking about you and I'm here for you. You have a hard road ahead of you. If you'll let me, I can be there for you. It can be like it used to be if you want. I often cling to the things you wrote about me and to me and your words are a salve to my oft wounded heart. Your pain is my pain. I only wish that I could bear it with you in person, though we both know that's not possible. I know you asked me not to contact you anymore and I realize this letter may come as a surprise, but I couldn't let this go without reaching out to you._

_Love,_

_B_

Holden folded the letter, placed it gently inside the drawer, and prepped himself to do the hardest thing he had ever done. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number his grandpa had given him, hands shaking while he waited for her to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Waldorf? This is Holden Humphrey." Silence. "I know you talked to my dad today about a book and I just wanted to let you know that he's going to do it."

"He agreed? He didn't seem very inclined to do so when we parted ways today." She was clearly flustered.

"Technically no, he didn't agree. But I want him to do it, for his sake and for mine. You tell me a time and place for your first meeting and I'll make sure he's there."

"I don't know about this Holden. I really don't think your dad would like it if he knew we were talking."

"I know know about your letter, Ms. Waldorf. In fact, I still have it. I'm sorry to pull this card, but you owe me."

...

Henry spent most of the evening in his room, packing his things. After the fight with his mom, he'd decided to go ahead and head back to university a few days early. It was too hard being at home when his family was all but in shambles. He'd just about finished when he remembered his mom had promised to give him her old desk to take back to his dorm. After climbing over various and a sundry boxes and discarded home decor, he found the small cherry desk. Despite the dust it had accumulated it was still in pristine condition, he was pleased to note. He was not, however, pleased to note that he was going to have to hoist it up and over the boxes he had just climbed. Grunting with the effort, he managed to get it settled on top of the boxes. It was a lot heavier than it looked so he stepped back and closed his eyes for just a moment to rest. It wasn't until the desk actually hit the ground that he even realized it was no longer atop the boxes.

"Shit!"

Scrambling over the boxes, he landed on the right side of the dumped desk and attempted to set it upright. It was chipped in several places and one of the drawers had fallen out, but it was mostly in one piece. As he lifted the missing drawer, a stack of envelopes tied together with a green velvet ribbon caught his eye. Curious, he picked up the stack and glanced at the letter at the top; it was addressed to his mom. He flipped through the rest and discovered they were all addressed to his mom. He flipped one of them over and saw the initials D.H. in the return address._ Dan Humphrey_. His heart jumped into his throat as he spotted the same initials on the back of every single one of them. They were old, that much he could tell, the earliest postmark dated several months after Henry was born. Careful not to rip it, he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

It began:

_Dear Blair,_

___I wish I could tell you this in person. Sometimes, I can't believe how long it's been since I've seen your face. _I miss you, so much more than you know. I don't know how else to say this so I'm just going to be blunt. You made a mistake. You never should have married him. The awful truth is you should have married me, but now it's too-

"Henry? Are you up there?" Startled by his mom's voice, he dropped the letters and they scattered. He quickly swept them all into his arms and ran down the hall to his room where he shoved them into his satchel.

"I'm in my room, mom." He called out. "I'll be down in a second!"

"It's okay, hon. You don't need to come down. I just need to know if you've made up your mind yet. Are you driving back to school tomorrow?" She was doing her best to hide the hurt in her voice, but Henry knew better. She had never been able to deceive him. He could always tell.

He could always tell.

He glanced inside his bag at the letters and it was enough to make up his mind.

"Nah, I've decided to stay after all."

_TBC_

**We're our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves.**

**-Tom Robbins, _Still Life with Woodpecker_**


End file.
